


To what am I?

by LuXMavis_173



Category: Borderlands, Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: Jack is an asshole, M/M, Multi, Tansphobia, Teratophilia, Trans Rhys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 04:46:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13139373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuXMavis_173/pseuds/LuXMavis_173
Summary: This is a period piece I wrote for StarfruitSpice on tumblr for the Bl-Gift Exchange.Rhys and Timmy has to go rescue Jack and Wilhelm. This is part one, if I write part two I will be sure to link it.





	To what am I?

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy this period piece. I enjoyed writing it!  
> Warnings: Adult Content/NSFW. Teratophilia. Hugo Vasquez. Trans Rhys. Jack’s an asshole. Transphobia, use of dead names  
> Pairings: rhack, suggested wilhelmxtimothy.

Letter to Mr. Jack Lawrence from Mr. Rhys Gallagher:  
Nov. 28th 1874; Upstate New York, subdivision; Whilmburg.  
To my Dearest Jack.  
“You’re missing it, the snow. It’s flurrying crazily over here. The flakes are thick and heavy, it slowly falls to the ground, blanketing the streets, sidewalks, yards and park that children play, their happy and exciting voices are raising above the bustle of Whilmburg. When cabs roll slowly along, they leave hoof and small tire trails behind them.   
Though I am only picturing this for I have been shut up in my room; because my mother caught me reading the World instead of the Herald and she about croaked. Too bad she did not.  
She said “My word, Anna! A young lady has no need of educating herself in worldly affairs. If it’s not on a plate it can wait.” She then snatched the newspaper from me and said, “What will Hugo think, his future wife, reading the newspaper, educating herself, reading unruly subjects and getting opinions about them?” She then instructed Javis to lead me up to the attic until further notice.   
I might die up here.   
Truly Yours,  
R.G.  
P.S. she is pushing me to accept Hugo’s proposal, if he proposes, hurry back soon. I don’t know how long I can hold them off.”

***

Letter to Miss. Anna Aldridge from Miss. Jacklyn Lawrence:  
Dec. 28th 1874; Somewhere off the coast of Zanzibar  
To my Beloved Rhys.  
“I seriously disagree at your claim of being locked up in the attic until you die. I am sure you were let out within the hour. Now smile because I am right, aren’t I, Darling?   
I would trade snow any day for this heat. The heat is everywhere, I can not seem to escape it. The voyage to Zanzibar was long, and rough, we lost many crew men to the infection and others have acquired a case of scurvy. But not your Jack of course.   
As I write this I can hear Wilhelm arguing with our first man – lady – Nisha, do you remember her? Tell my annoying brother Wilhelm misses him, even if he doesn’t say it allowed. Though many wouldn’t agree with having a Mary as a brother, I’ll fight anyone who tries to dishonor him.   
Missing you desperately.   
Forever and Always,   
J.L.   
P.S. Being the wife of a broker is great, you will be well off; but being the husband of a sailor is adventurous.”

***  
Rhys glanced over the letter once more. Then picked up another. It was an invitation to a wedding. Dating Dec. 27th 1877. Underneath it “Hugo Vasquez and Anna Aldridge” was scrawled in perfect swirling, script.  
Rhys took a breath, bit his bottom lip, and tucked the letter form Jack away. This time, Rhys told himself sternly. It will stay put away, along with those silly whimsical little girl feelings that mean nothing in the real world. Love can’t buy you a well-bred name. Rhys’ mother’s voice echoed in his years now, “And us Aldridges do not marry for love. We marry for lifestyle and breeding. Those who have the ability to take care of us, a good name, and in return, we produce them grand heirs.”  
Rhys crinkled his nose. He did not want to produced heirs with Hugo. And if Hugo knew what Rhys already knew about the act that came after marriage, and if Hugo knew that Rhys already had experience in doing so, with a certain ship captain, hell if his mother new what Rhys had done, Rhys would be sent off to Dr. Brawler’s home for the mentally ill. While his mother would casually explain over afternoon tea with her usual entourage that “Anna went away to visit her great aunt Jen in the county,” his mother would say in a haughty voice. “County side air is good for a girl her age.”  
The papers will report later that Hugo Vasquez has been seen with a young pretty thing, Elizabeth Montfort.  
But alas that did not happen. Rhys was not found out, and Jack did not come home as he promised. What did happen though was Rhys accepted Hugo’s proposal, they were married three days after Christmas, on a dark snowy night.  
Now Hugo sat in hers – no his, theirs – drawing room, entertain guests who came over to celebrate after the wedding. Hugo’s parents were there, along with Rhys’ and other relatives.  
Rhys sighed. He cannot wait in his room much longer. Rhys slipped the shoe box under his bed. He had yet to pack and move out of his parent’s house and into Hugo’s mansion in upstate New York. And he was in no hurry too.  
Rhys was at the flight of stairs, that exited besides the drawing room, planning on rejoining the family, when he noticed the doors to the balcony were open. Rhys snorted. Sometimes the wait staff seemed to slack off.  
Rhys was originally going to just shut them, but the snow intrigued him and he stepped onto the landing.  
That was when an arm shot out of the darkness and snatched Rhys.  
“You must not be here,” Rhys hissed at Timothy Lawrence, hand pressed against Timmy’s chest, Rhys cold feel Timmy’s heart thumping wildly underneath the cotton shirt. Rhys recognized him immediately. Timmy looked exactly how Rhys had remembered Jack. Eyes wide-eyed, sparkled, a hint of mischief in them, Rhys face flushes as emotions flood back; remembering that night. This was not Jack, and this was Rhys’ wedding night. “If they catch you, you will hang.” Timmy didn’t move, he had Rhys pinned against him, Rhys was inches away from Jack’s-Timmy’s-chest. Blush creeped up to Rhy’s cheeks, he had to get out of there.  
It was not proper for the upper-class to converse with those of lesser breeding.  
And if Rhys’ mother found out friendly Rhys had become with the Lawrence twins; the well-known Lawrence twin’s whose father had left their mother in the motherly way, and who became to be known as a pirate, Rhys was sure his mother would choke on her tea, clutch her throat and double over. Dead as a doornail.  
“I found him, Rhys,” Timmy whispered excitedly, breath tickled Rhy’s ear, Rhys knotted his fingers in Timmy’s shirt. “They were hijacked by pirates, he’s alive. Along with one other from his crew.” Timmy paused and Rhys knew what was coming next. “Wilhelm is a live as well.” Rhys’ fingers relaxed, but his breathing did not. He had to calm down.  
Before Rhys could respond a voice broke out. “Anna, Anna, where are you,” the voice was unmistakable. It was the voice of Rhys’ newly wedded husband, Hugo Vasquez. Despite the fact the Rhys flinched at his dead name, he was pulled back into the present. He wrenched his arm out of Timmy’s grasp. “I am married now,” Rhys responded, slowly, counting his breath and his words. “You must leave.”  
“Anna,” Hugo called again, his voice raising an octave. His voice was closer now, halfway up the stairs, if he saw Rhys and Timmy together, Timmy would surly hang.  
Rhys shoved Timmy into the shadows, and stepped further out into the landing. “I’m out here, darling, on the balcony,” Rhys dragged himself back to the present. “I will be back in a minute, after I visit the young lady’s room,” Rhys was happy about how quickly he came up with the lie. “I felt a bit faint, flushed, I will be right out.” Rhys held his breath, but he heard Hugo slowly descended the staircase once more; going back to the guest downstairs. Playing perfect host in Rhys’ parent’s house.  
Rhys turned back to Timmy, hissing more fiercely now. “You need to leave and I need to get back to my life.”  
Timmy sighed in desperation. “I can’t, Rhys,” He searched Rhys’ eyes but all he saw was a mix of emotions, excitant, worry and regret. “I will leave now, for now, but please take this. If you change your mind, meet me down by the harbor at midnight. Tonight. I’m going after them.”  
Timmy shoved a letter in Rhys hand, was addressed To Mr. Rhys Gallagher from Mr. Jack Lawrence.  
***  
Rhys found himself down by the docks. A blistering cold kicked up, freezing the tips of his gloveless fingers and spraying water on his face. Rhys grimaced, scrunched his nose, and turtled down further into the scarf he was sporting. Rhys closed his eyes against the blistering wind.  
He had claimed that a headache had developed, much to Hugo’s disappointment, Rhys was not in the mood for entertainment that night.  
A taboo of breaking tradition but Rhys was persistent and Hugo relented, as long as Rhys promised to join him as soon as the headache had passed, no matter the time.  
Rhys had blanched at that. But quickly recovered by dipping his head and smiling, “of course dear,” he said obediently. The smiling dancing monkey act has once again come into handy Rhys thought bitterly to himself. Just smile, wave, curtsy and not at all think of Jack.  
Rhys caught a glance at his cousin Vaughn’s face as Rhys exited the room. Vaughn’s look was a suspicious one but did not press his dear cousin.  
Rhys tried not to race to his room, but as soon as he was out of sight of the peering eyes, Rhys picked up his skirts and ran down the hall. He grabbed his personal maid along the way, hurriedly he had told her his plan.  
Rhys pulled out a box from under the secret compartment in his wardrobe and the clothes he had snuck in, Jack’s old clothes, where still there, stored there since the day Jack board the Kathryn and out of Rhys’ life.  
Jack was all Rhys could think about as he donned on the white shirt and rolled up the sleeves, and tugged over a tweed vest. Jack’s trousers were almost always bigger around the waist, but Rhys was glad that he grabbed the full-length ones, since Rhys had longer legs than Jack. Rhys pulled on the simplest brown shoe he owned, straightened his neck tie, and placed a bowler hat on his head, throwing a shadow over his excited face. Depending on the cold, he might have to snatch a scarf from an unexpecting mark.  
“Now, Trudy,” Rhys said. “Change into my bed clothes and stay here; at least until my mother and Hugo had gone to bed. You need to leave as quick as you can, before morning. I gave you enough money to hold you over until you can find another job.”  
“I don’t know why you are doing this miss,” Trudy said, in her thick Irish accent, red eyebrows knitted together, concern shown in her clear blue eyes. “I have a half a mind to call in your mother now.”  
“Trudy, I will die here,” Rhys said, a half whine. “At least give me a chance at life.” He knew Trudy knew this. Though Trudy did not know of all of Rhys’ escapades, she did see the sketches that Rhys brought back and thought he had well-hidden them under his wardrobe.  
But Trudy saw them, and saw that Rhys may have not visited the most proper of places, but the child had a skill and Trudy was not going to be the one to put out that flame.  
Trudy’s face softened at Rhys’ words. She crossed the room. She reached up and straightened Rhys’ tie. “I hope you are right.” She said, brushing his shoulders and stepping away, sighing. “Be safe on the way down now.” Trudy wrung her hands together in front of her; Sending a pointed look at Rhys.  
“Rhys,” Timmy called. Rhys came back from his memories. “You made it,” Timmy said, clapping a hand on Rhys’ shoulder. Timmy grinned, not even attempting to hide his excitement. “I knew you would.” Timmy eyed Rhys up and down. “I almost didn’t recognize you. How did you get out? And what are you wearing?”  
“I climbed down the tree closest to my window. But I will tell you, it was quite a leap of faith,” Rhys smoothed out his vest. “This is also Jack’s.”  
Timmy nodded. “Good idea dressing like a –“ Timmy stopped, blushed and said. “Ah, neverminded. I hope you brought some money, we’re going to have to grease some palms.”  
***  
Letter to Mr. Jack Lawrence from Mr. Rhys Gallagher:  
1878; Somewhere East of Seychelles,  
To my Dearest Jack  
“The fact that your brother appeared on my doorstep, months ago, dragged me on to this ship, the Voyager, and sent me on a wild goose chase all over the vast coast of Zanzibar, really should not surprise me … since he is your brother … but it did, does.   
Now he says we will land in Seychelles and start on foot, trooping around the jungle there. That doesn’t sound like the best plan to me.   
The reason why we’re even heading to Seychelles right now is because some citizen of Zanzibar said that roughly the night you guys were supposed to land there, there was terrible storm and the ship got blown East.   
Later some bodies washed up and some ship parts on Seychelles’ beaches.  
Your memories, our memories are the only thing that is keeping me afloat, against this blistering heat and rocking waves.   
Do you remember the day we me?   
Anna Aldridge was not where she needed to be. She was in the far side of town, if it could be called that. The houses were more run down, the cobble stone streets were up rooted and worn, it was a game to see how long one could walk before stumbling and resulting in a twisted ankle or worse a broken neck.  
This side of town was not a place an Aldridge should be seen. “It’s a place where pigs and man sleep in the same hole.” Anna heard her mother say to Aunt Fay one day, over tea in the front parlor. “That whole place should just be cut and dropped off from the city. Ingrates.”  
Anna wanted to see it for herself. But she knew she herself could not travel downtown town. She could have asked Yvette to join her but Anna knew that she would have to do some bartering with some free food and eventually Yvette’s mother would find out and then a very short time later her own mother.  
Yvette might be Anna’s friend, but she is not good at keeping secrets.  
So, Anna paid her maid, Trudy, and Anna herself snuck out of the back of the house, through the scullery and out the back-alley garden gate, after claiming that she was going to lie down for a nap. Trudy was the one in Anna’s bed now, wearing Anna’s clothes, and Anna had donned on some of her distant cousin Hugo’s clothes. That Anna had to barter with Trudy to snatch up.  
Dressed in some simple trousers, shirt and jacket, Anna made her way down to the docks.  
Anna was minding her own business, sitting on an upturned milk crate, sketching a scene at the harbor, ships floated in and out. The place smelled like fish and piss, but Anna was determined to sketch something more than her pet parakeet.  
The smell didn’t block the strong stink of sweat, piss and booze that assaulted her. She smelled them before she seen them. Anna looked up as two drunk men approaching, stumbling to stop in front of her. Both of them saw through her disguise of being a young male.  
Thinking on the spot she ordered them to leave. Calling them a Marry and stated that no one approached her that way. She insisted that she was a he and he was just minding his business by sketching for food.  
Despite her efforts, the failed attempt; Anna tried her best to shoo off the two unbecoming men in another way, threating to ring the police. but neither of them would budge. They kept asking her how much.  
How much for what? Anna thought.  
Then one of them, getting frustrated with Anna’s stubbornness, grabbed her. Knocking the sketch book from her hands. The other kicked the coal pencils away, out of reach. Anna had a half a mind to scream, and when she was hoisted her to her feet.  
***  
“So, we’re here,” Timmy said. “Though I am not sure where “here” is.” Timmy placed his hands on his hips and turned around in a small circle, taking in the scenery.  
They were standing in the middle of the jungle. Well not really the middle of the jungle. It just felt like it to Rhys. Who was not used to walking hours upon hours, in blistering heat. Sweat ran into his eyes, his hair was stuck to his head; luckily enough, before they started this part of the journey, Timmy had found Rhys a barber who would cut is hair short.  
Now Rhys was thankful for that, as different and new insects buzzed around Rhys’ head, in his eyes, and by his ears. He was sure he would faint if his hair was still long and thick.  
Rhys’ feet hurt, he was tired and his heart beat was in his ears. He wanted a drink, a nice place to sit, and a shower. Not necessarily in that order.  
But he could not whine for he was on a mission to save Jack.  
“Are you sure this is where Jack could have sent the letter,” Rhys said out of breath. “We haven’t seen civilization over a day and a half a day now.” Rhys licked his lips, where was that water can.  
“Yes, I am sure of it,” Timmy said, turned his back to Rhys and looking around them. Above them birds called, the sun shone through the tall tree tops, a small weak wind ruffled the greenery. “I am sure of it,” Timmy mumbled. “Damn it Jack, where are you?”  
There was a thump next to Timmy. He turned around to see Rhys had fainted.  
***  
Jack stepped in.  
If this was on old western, Anna would have clasped her hands, tilted her head and sighed “My hero.” While the sun sat behind her, filling the sky with reds, pinks, oranges and yellows. Anna would await a kiss from “her hero”; wind kicking up dust around her as he would have strutted up to his damsel.  
But this was not a western and this was not Western America. And despite the fact that Jack had saved her from the two unbecoming men, he was making a scene. “And an Aldridge do not make scenes” her mother’s voice echoed in her ears.  
Anna bent down and scrambled to pick up her papers and pens and shove them back into her mud-stained mail bag. Everything was covered in mud. Anna picked up her cloth hat that was knocked off her. The smell was overwhelming, but Anna put it on despite it’s appearance, believing she would never get the smell out of her hair. But Anna had a mission to accomplish, she had to get out of here before the man turned his eyes on her.  
Who knew what he wanted from her.  
Anna felt a strong hand on her shoulder. She jerked back, spraying her materials back onto the ground once more. If she was a sailor, she would have said some colorful words. But she was not.  
Jack was though. “Bollocks,” the man said, bending down to help her.  
Anna blanched at the word. No one she knew ever spoke that way around her. She scrambled to her feet, clutching the sketching to her chest. She must not show him how much he had startled her. “No-no,” Anna said, hurriedly. “That’s quite alright I am fine, thank you.” Anna stepped back again.  
The man risen to his feet. Anna could see his face perfectly now. He was brunette with a dashing smile and had the most interesting eyes she had ever seen. They were miss matched, one green and one blue, a light with excitement.  
“Where are my manners,” he said, wiping a hand on his dingy shirt, red streaks were left behind. “My name is Jack, Jack Lawrence. And you are?” Jack then held out a hand to her. It was still dirty and stained with black tarnish.  
Anna took it. His hand was warm in hers, surrounding Anna’s small one. With her heartbeat in her ears, her face a flush, Anna barely heard her next words, “Mr. Rhys Gallagher. Starving artist.”  
***  
Rhys blinked awake. These memories were old and sad but also pleasant at times. In the dead of night, he like to remember the times he spent with Jack, even if that time was a short, a mere 6 months, those memories will be with him until the day Rhys dies.   
Rhys tossed and arm over his eyes. With his other one he reached for the bell to ring his maid, Trudy.  
But his hand grasped empty air, Rhys let it fall. He nervously felt around, immediately frightened, on edge; afraid to open his eyes, not knowing where he was. His hand reached for his pillow and he felt straw. The bed he was laying upon felt like wooden tubes.  
He was not at home.  
Jack! Rhys opened his eyes and sat up so fast that he lost his bearings. Rhys fell back down into the hard bed once more. With an uncomfortable kerplunk.  
“Careful miss,” said a voice in a thick accent. “You had a start.”  
Without thinking Rhys went to correct them when another voice did.  
“His name is Rhys,” a familiar voice growled. A too familiar voice.  
Rhys’ face flushed. He knew that voice.  
Rhys slowly sat up, propping himself up on his elbows. He was trying to get is breathing in order and bless his too naive heart wanted to fly out of his chest.  
Without even properly seeing him, Rhys knew who was there, who he was.  
Rhys had to blink, to keep the tears back but he saw him. The outline in the shadows sent shivers up his spine. It was him, he was alive.  
Rhys shook his head, dismissing the pain that it caused. Jack’s alive, he’s alive was all he could think about.  
“Of course, sir,” the woman said. She bowed and let herself out. She shot a weary glance at Jack and Rhys.  
Behind her Rhys caught a glimpse of the darkening sky before the curtain fell closed again.  
“Jack,” Rhys said, weakly. He reached out to Jack. Jack didn’t move. Rhys, feeling frustrated, went to walk over to him.  
That’s when Rhys noticed the chains.  
Rhys lifted up his arms. The shackles on his wrists slid lower. Rhys looked at his ankles, two shackles were there as well. “J-Jack,” Rhys said nervously. “What is all this?” Rhys weakly gestured to the chains.  
The sun was setting, but Rhys could see Jack’s eyes as he leaned over, placing his elbows on his knees, the sunlight striped across his face, highlighting his two mismatched eyes. They stared back, boring into Rhys’ own.  
But this time it was different, one eye was white, his green eye; was white. A blue arch broke apart his face.  
Rhys could not help himself, he sighed and said, “Oh, Jack, what have they done to you?” He said, barely a whisper. The sun had set and the moon started to peek through the clouds.  
“What did they do to me,” Jack mocked, an edge in his voice that was new to Rhys. “What did they do to me,” he repeated it once more. Jack rolled to his feet. Moonlight poured through the window of the straw hut, squaring off the cot that Rhys laid chained too. Jack stepped into the light.  
Rhys could not take his eyes off of Jack’s face. There was something predatorial in that smile. Something new.  
And then Jack began to change.  
***  
Jack began to change.  
Rhys could do nothing but stare, his elbows propped him up, his chin was tilted up eyes locked in Jack’s, eyes pinning him to the bed.  
Jack grew, his skin gave way to a large furry black body that was dark as night. His elongated, his feet and hands gave way to humanoid, wolf-like paws. His body ripples, abs ran from his lower body to his torso. Rhys’ eyes followed them up. That’s when he saw Jack’s face.  
Rather, Jack’s Head. It had changed into a large white skull with hollow eyes. On top of the skull antlers grew.  
Jack fell forward, encaging Rhys body. “Look at what I become” Rhys heard Jack’s voice in his head. “Do I not scare you?”  
Rhys licked his lips. Jack’s new face was inches from his. His mouth had fallen open. Rhys could see rows of sharp teeth and a pink tongue.  
“Or does it do the exact opposite for you,” Jack’s voice snickered in his head. Jack tilted his head down and Rhys followed his stare, without his knowledge, his legs had fell open willingly, and Jack had slipped in between them.  
Rhys felt his face heat. He tries to look away but everywhere he glanced all he saw was Jack.  
“What, are you?” Rhys dared to whisper. Rhys blinked and tried to gain a better understanding of the large creature, upon the large stull, his antlers were growing greenery, small white flowers bloomed from fragile vies. There was something alive amongst the dead after all.  
“Bosbeskermer,” Jack’s voice echoed in Rhys mind “And you are my sacrifice.”  
Rhys gulped as Jack angled his new face down besides Rhys’ neck, Jack’s tongue slipped out, it was rough against Rhys’ sensitive skin. “Nnngh,” Rhys grunted. He didn’t know whether to be frightened of Jack, punch him for never writing, or something else.  
Rhys felt warmth pooling in his stomach. Realizing that despite what form Jack took, that was still Jack and Rhys was in his bed.  
Rhys’ emotions were not missed by Jack, he flooded Rhys’ mind again. “Did you stay a devoted slut for Daddy,” Jack’s voice purred. “Was Rhysie a good boy? Still my special boy?”  
Rhys heart sped up. Jack moved his front paw and pressed it onto Rhys’ bosom, between two plumped breasts, his nipples were perked and ready for attention, straining against the flimsy pink nightgown he was dressed in.  
Jack pressed down on Rhys’ chest, his sharp smile hovering over Rhys’ supple throat. “I’m waiting, Pumpkin,” Jack his growl echoed. Saliva dripped from Jack’s mouth and pooled at the base of his mates’ neck, between the two well defined collar bones.  
Rhys’ head was spinning. He was trying to focus on Jack’s words, but only thing he zoned in on was the feeling of his orgasm rush over him. Rhys closed his eyes as he came, too embarrassed to open them.  
Pressure was released from his chest and Rhys took in deep gulps of air. Rhys didn’t open his eyes as Jack shifted, waiting the wrath from not answering his question.  
Jack nosed in between Rhys’ thighs and as Rhys felt the rough tongue slide over his clit, Rhys gasped. He lifted his head and saw that Jack had shoved away the bottom of Rhys’ skirt and now was rutting against him. Either hands were on Rhys’ chains, keeping his legs bent, spread, and still, exposing Rhys all for Jack’s reaping.  
Rhys mewed against the insult as Jack dug deeper, entering Rhys’ folds. “Rhysie, if I knew you’d react like this, seeing me in this form, I would have summoned you sooner,” Jack’s voice teased in Rhys’ head. “Baby boy is so wet for me. So wet for Daddy.”  
Rhys then felt Jack insert two digits, while going back to focus on Rhys’ clit. “J-Jack,” Rhys panted. “Jack!”  
“Who is my dirty little slut,” Jack snickered. Slowly scissoring his fingers, stretching Rhys, readying him. Mocking what Rhys knew will soon come. “Is it you? Huh, Rhysie, are you my special dirty little slut?”  
Jack plunged his fingers deep into Rhys, forcing groans and half whines from him. Rhys shuttered, falling apart in Jack’s hands. “Answer me pumpkin,” Jack hissed, thrusting deeper, teasing his g-spot.  
“Y-yes,” Rhys cried out, coming a second time, tears were in his eyes. “Yes, yes, I am, your dirty little slut.” Rhys screamed the last words, as waves of pleasure crashed over him.  
Jack slipped out of Rhys and crawled back on top of him, he licked away Rhys’ tears. Jack pinned Rhys to the bed, a hand around Rhys’ throat.  
And then Rhys felt it, push its way into Rhys, seethe itself in side him, pushing part his walls and stretching Rhys oh so deliciously. “You’re going to take all of me,” Jack growled dominantly in side Rhys’ head. “Daddy is going to wreck you.” Rhys felt Jack’s hot breath on his cheek. Jack let go of Rhys and shifted, getting a better angle.  
Rhys whined beggingly as Jack started to move in an out of him. Rhys wrapped his arm round Jack’s neck and winced as Jack’s hands clutched his hips, holding him still as Jack pounded into him.  
“I missed you so much,” Jack said in a half whine, surprising Rhys by his change of tone. “I shouldn’t have brought you here.” Jack nuzzled the side of Rhys’ head. “But I couldn’t live with the thought of you becoming the wife of that…that asshole.” Anger slipped into Rhys’s head, it was not his own emotions.  
“They did something to me, Rhysie,” Jack pushed on, nails dug into Rhys’ skin, blood beaded at the cuts. “I am not control of my emotions anymore.” Jack grunted. “Only thing that kept me sane was thinking of you.” Rhys heartbeat was in his ears, his was blushing from chest up, his face was red. “Then I became this. I- I wanted you to think me dead.”  
Rhys was so stupid, he mentally kicked himself. He knew how much he missed Jack, but he didn’t even think about how much Jack missed him.  
Rhys moved to kiss Jack’s chin, then his jaw and then his neck. Tears were trailing down Rhys’ face now. He moved and buried his face in Jack’s scent. Inhaling trees, grass, flowers, rocks, scent of this new world.  
“I tried, I tried to come back to you,” Jack said, his voice barely over a whisper. Rhys’s heart swelled, Rhys felt guilty. He thought Jack had but given up on him, but really it was he who had given up on Jack.  
Then Rhys’ mind grew dark once more and he was shoved away. Jack help him at arm’s length, glaring down at him. “Then I heard you married Vasquez.” Jack tossed Rhys back onto the bed and enclosed hand around Rhys’ throat, cutting off Rhys’ air.  
With Rhys helpless below him, he started thrusting, ramming his hips with Rhys’ and as Jack climaxed he started randomly sputtering.  
“You’re mine, Rhysie,” Jack said. “You’re mine, nobody else’s.” With each thrust Jack went deeper. “Not your mothers, not your friends,” Jack rammed his hips into Rhys, Rhys cried out. “And not especially that Hugo Vasquez.”  
“Yes, yes,” Rhys said through a broken voice. “All yours Jack, forever and always.”  
Jack bit Rhys’s shoulder, Rhys heard bones snapping and he knew that Jack had broken it. Rhys entangled his fingers into Jack’s fur and rode out his orgasm. Finally, sweet darkens met him and Rhys slipped away.  
***  
The next morning the maid from before walked in. She spied over on the bed, the couple. The Bosbeskermer had an arm protectively stung over his mate. The woman knew now that the monster would not leave the island.  
Brining his mate was a smart move.  
The woman then dared to get a closer look at what had captured the Bosbeskermer so willingly.  
A low primal growl warned her.  
She froze in her step.  
Over the sleeping human’s shoulder, the Bosebeskermer, now in human form, was watching her, warning her, daring her to get closer.  
The woman quietly slipped a hand into her pocket, pulled out an iron key, and laid it next to the table.  
She saw her way out.  
END OF PART 1


End file.
